Ruby checks her bed for signs of blood when she rises at 10 a.m. She had to wad sheets of toilet paper over her wound, and it still hurts every time she moves. When she inspects it in the bathroom mirror, it’s a clean cut, three inches long, just below her ribcage. She makes a tutting sound under her breath. Why didn’t she kill Hardwick straight away? The woman showed kindness, making her forget the rules, which was a big mistake. Her father taught her that a successful hit must be emotionless.
The bar appears empty when she goes downstairs, the landlord’s booming voice silent. She leaves by the front door, then stops at the nearest chemist. She carries several items to the counter along with bandage and plasters, so the assistant won’t remember what she bought, but anonymity is impossible in such a quiet place. She’s the only customer, and the middle-aged woman behind the till seems determined to chat. Ruby keeps her head down, hoping there are no CCTV cameras hidden on the top shelves, while the assistant recommends local beauty spots to visit.
She finally escapes after a five-minute delay. It crosses her mind to go back to her room to bandage her wound, so blood won’t stain her clothes, but the landlord always wants to chat. Every conversation makes it more likely he’ll remember details, so she retreats down a deserted alleyway and stuffs a wad of bandage down her shirt. Now she’s free to join the footpath to St Austell.
There are no other walkers in sight as she travels in the opposite direction from Annie Hardwick’s farm. The open landscape still sets her nerves on edge; the moor has few trees, and miles of uninterrupted sky, the earth boggy underfoot. She’d like to run back to the village, but there’s a last task to complete before she can leave. Ruby comes to a halt beside a towering pile of rocks. Giants appear to have wandered across the land, piling boulders on top of each other until they look certain to fall.
She sits on the grass to begin her sketch. It’s important to make her fake identity seem authentic, even if it wastes time. Ruby studies the elemental landscape, and soon last night’s misery is soothed away, while her pencil marks the page. She spends an hour creating the picture. It’s incomplete, but it’s her best attempt, so she hurries back to the pub, where the landlord is in his favourite position behind the bar.
‘We missed you at breakfast, love.’
She smiles at him. ‘My bed’s too comfortable, that’s why. It’s a shame I need to go home today.’
‘Let’s see your sketches first.’
‘I’m not proud of them.’
‘Come on, love. No one goes to art school unless they’re talented.’
‘You can see my last one, but the rest are rubbish.’
He gives a low whistle of admiration. ‘That’s brilliant, love. You’ve caught the spirit of the place.’
Ruby considers giving him the drawing just to shut him up, but it would leave a trail for the police to find.
‘I promise to come back next summer,’ she says. ‘My work will get better, so I’ll show you then.’
‘That sounds fair to me.’
He offers her a reduced rate for her room, and she accepts his generosity. It gives her a glimpse of a parallel world where people are gentle and no one ever gets hurt. She can’t pin down why she feels so uncomfortable walking away, with her backpack slung over her shoulder. The sun is shining and there are no police cars in sight. Maybe it’s because her next target will be the hardest of all. She remembers DI Ben Kitto when he was one of her dad’s trusted employees. Thinking about him still makes her blood boil; it was his betrayal that condemned her father to a life of suffering. There’s another reason too. She had a teenage crush on him. He was a giant of a man, good-looking and cool under pressure, but now he’s her biggest enemy.
When she reaches the bus station, Ruby studies her map of Cornwall. The Isles of Scilly look like a handful of pebbles flung across the Atlantic Ocean, scattered far from the mainland. She shuts her eyes and concentrates, remembering her dad teaching her about self confidence; if she believes she can finish the task, nothing can slow her down. She swallows a few deep breaths, then approaches the ticket kiosk to start the last leg of her journey.